


Between the Lines

by sordes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Misunderstandings, t-rated chu shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 09:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes/pseuds/sordes
Summary: Gladio’s brows screw together and he raises a hand in exasperation. “Ignis. Do you—really?” He buries his face into his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. “You seriously don’t get it, do you?”Ignis bristles. He doesn’t care one bit for being on the outside of a joke, whatever it is. “Perhaps you could enlighten me, then.”“This is, ah, y’know.” Gladio sobers suddenly, his eyes flitting around the diner, refusing to settle back on Ignis. “A date.” He pauses, clears his throat, then adds, “I asked you on a date, Ignis.”The one where Ignis fails to read between the lines. Written for the lovely Sauronix for the inaugural TBL Exchange.





	Between the Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sauronix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/gifts).



> A first date and some pure shenanigans. Hope you enjoy!

Only after Noct and Prompto are passed out in bed does Ignis gather his stash of area maps—a collection built up steadily over time, the result of buying every map on offer at every gas station they’ve stopped at—and leave the motel room. He can’t help but shake his head at the thought that _staying in a motel_ is a rare treat these days, but the notion of roughing it another night in the wilds makes his back ache. The motel is an extravagance they shouldn’t often partake in, but by the same measure, it’s a small indulgence that’s helping to keep the lot of them sane.

Ignis had been looking forward to passing out in one of the beds, too, only Gladio pulled him aside after diner before he could so as much retrieve his toothbrush from his bag. He spoke softly, asking if Ignis had some time to meet at the Crow’s Nest just next door—the others weren’t invited. Ignis had no idea what Gladio wanted to discuss that couldn’t be said in front of Noct and Prompto, but accepted. Whatever Gladio wanted to say regardless, planning the next steps in their journey in a brightly lit space with a proper table large enough to accommodate all of his maps was a much welcome change from hunching over things in front of a dim campfire.

Maps in hand, Ignis locks the door to their room and makes the short walk over to the Crow’s Nest across the cracked asphalt, weeds and tufts of grass poking up around the little archipelagos.

Gladio’s unmissable from the big windows, the interior of the Crow’s Nest lit up as brightly as ever. At night, though, it’s like a beacon, the neon of the sign buzzing faintly and the harsh fluorescents inside welcoming in weary traveler and insomniac alike. Gladio is seated at one of the wide booths, a tattooed arm slung over the seat back, watching the door to the diner.

How long has it been since the two of them had a moment alone? Not since the group had left Insomnia, Ignis thinks, and even then… hectic schedules kept their recent interactions to the bare minimum. A quick ‘hello’ or update when picking up or dropping off Noct, the occasional email or brief phone call. He’s always enjoyed Gladio’s company, and truth to be told missed their regular sparring matches and occasional Sunday morning coffee ‘meetings,’ wherein the two would catch up on their busy weeks. They were good friends, and sometimes, sipping coffee together outside at one of those small bistro tables, to Ignis at least it felt like they were more than that.

Ultimately, whatever was there—whatever Ignis was imagining was there—had never been addressed and with the upheaval of their lives, Ignis isn’t sure it ever would be. Both have far more important things to worry about now, and Ignis himself had firmly placed any notion of romantics on the back burner to be forgotten about weeks ago.

Ignis has no reason to be nervous now, but he nearly drops the pile of maps when Gladio glances in his direction. They hold one another’s gaze for a beat, then Gladio offers a slight wave. Ignis gives a stolid nod and walks past the obnoxious Kenny Crow statue sitting outside and steps out of the mild evening air and into the diner.

“Hey…” Gladio blinks as Ignis sets down the maps on the table, the neat pile spilling over. “What’re… these…?”

“Maps,” Ignis says, lowering himself into the booth opposite Gladio.

Ignis can feel Gladio’s eyes on him as he rearranges his hoard, bringing the Cleigne map to the top of the pile. Old Lestallum is close enough to Cape Caem to make the drive in a day, but Magitek activity from the nearby fort is a concern. They could try and bypass it, but in doing so would extend the drive by at least a day, weather permitting. Or perhaps they could try and move past the fort under the cover of darkness… Ignis remembers Gladio is sitting across from him before he gets in too deep and he clears his throat. “Did you want to begin, or…?”

Gladio clears his throat. “You, ah, wanna order something?”

Ignis blinks. They just ate a few hours ago; he had whipped up ‘leftover stew’ on the hotplate in the motel room. “We just ate,” he says bluntly.

Gladio looks down to the maps, absentmindedly scratches the back of his neck as a hint of color rises on his cheeks. Is he embarrassed because he didn’t get enough to eat...? Ignis takes mental note to increase Gladio’s portions from now on. Wouldn’t do for Noct’s Shield to be sluggish in a fight due to his caloric intake being too low.

“Not even like, a milkshake?” Gladio tries again.

Shuffling the maps with his fingers, Ignis tries to formulate how best to bow out with grace. It’s not that he dislikes sweets, on the contrary. He’d _have_ to love them to keep trying to recreate that elusive pastry from Noct’s childhood and subject himself to taste test after taste test. But a milkshake, here and now? With the Crown City in ruin? It’s an extravagance that doesn’t feel justifiable, unlike the motel room.

“Perhaps we should just... focus on the task at hand.”

Gladio grunts lightly as he eases himself up and out of the booth. “Can’t just sit here and not order anything.”

Ignis bristles slightly. Of course he knows that—just. It’s easy to forget common courtesies like this when the whole world has gone up in smoke.

He watches Gladio stride to the register and lean on the counter as he orders, casual in that way that could come off as cocky to some, but Ignis knows better. The register dings and the cash drawer slides out, coins jostling inside, as Gladio slides a few gil across the counter. Ignis can’t help but frown slightly at that, that Gladio had some ‘secret’ stash of funds he had neglected to share with the group when they pooled their meager finances together. He thinks he’ll ask Gladio if he’s got anymore stashed away somewhere, tucked in a boot or sewn into the lining of a jacket, but takes a deep breath and quashes the notion. They have to be united. A few gil is nothing to lose one’s temper over.

Gladio raps his fingers on the polished counter as he waits for the milkshake, and Ignis tries to busy himself with the maps. It isn’t easy staying focused, what with Gladio’s ass protruding just in the corner of his vision, but he soldiers on. Gladio can enjoy his milkshake while Ignis goes over the plan. They’ll be back in the motel room before they know it.

A few minutes later the fry cook slides the milkshake across the counter to Gladio, and Gladio gives a few words of thanks. He’s grinning as he presents it to Ignis from the foot of the table. “Hope you got room for dessert.”

The milkshake certainly looks divine. A thick, smooth coil of chocolate in a tall, frosty glass, complete with a near-perfect swirl of whipped cream and even the bright red cherry on top. Gladio places it between them, shortly followed by two metal spoons and two straws, still in their paper wrappers. Even from afar the sight makes Ignis’ mouth water, and he can smell the sweet chocolate and the tart, fruity cherry.

Though now that he’s focused on it, Ignis can smell something else entirely, too. It’s woodsy, robust in that cheap musky cologne way, and it only takes a second more to realize it’s coming from Gladio. Gladio doesn’t usually wear cologne, not now, anyway—none of them do. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed it before as Gladio was already sitting down by the time he arrived, but the scent is undeniable now as Gladio scoots back into the booth. The thought that Gladio certainly hadn’t been wearing any scent earlier in the day when all four of them had been crammed into the Regalia also nags at him.

Yet another mystery.

“Hope chocolate’s alright,” Gladio says as he taps the straws down on the table, pushing the wrappers down. He discards the paper and sticks them into the milkshake, one on his side and one on Ignis’.

It takes Ignis a beat to realize Gladio intends for them to share it.

“It’s…” in truth, not his first choice, but… “Fine. Thank you.”

Gladio cocks an eyebrow at that, and can’t manage to bite down the laugh. It’s warm, not mean-spirited in the least, and he shakes his head lightly. “You didn’t think I was just going to drink this whole thing in front of you, right?”

“Nonsense.” Ignis pushes up his glasses, hoping vainly that the act will conceal the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks, all the while knowing it won’t.

“Well,” Gladio leans in to take a sip, the thick curtain of his lashes fanning down as he does so. Ignis finds himself staring at Gladio’s lips around the straw, how a bit of his hair falls down around his face. He manages to pry his gaze away just before Gladio pulls back. “Help yourself.” Gladio shoots Ignis a grin. “It’s good.”

“After we’re through,” Ignis says. He leans back against the vinyl seat and folds his arms in front of his chest. “Which reminds me. What _exactly_ did you want to talk about?”

Ignis can practically see the question marks popping into existence over Gladio’s head.

“The reason why you asked me to come here. What was so important that you couldn’t say it back in the motel?”

Gladio’s brows screw together and he raises a hand in exasperation. “Ignis. Do you—really?” He buries his face into his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. “You seriously don’t get it, do you?”

Ignis bristles. He doesn’t care one bit for being on the outside of a joke, whatever it is. “Perhaps you could enlighten me, then.”

“This is, ah, y’know.” Gladio sobers suddenly, his eyes flitting around the diner, refusing to settle back on Ignis. “A date.” He pauses, clears his throat, then adds, “I asked you on a date, Ignis.”

Something in Ignis’ brain short circuits. He frantically replays their earlier conversation in his head and fails yet again to detect any subtext to Gladio’s simple request. “You just asked if I wanted to talk?” He can’t keep the question out of his voice.

“So what, I shoulda said, ‘Ignis, will you go out on a date with me?’”

Ignis shrugs. “Yes?”

Gladio laughs so hard the spoons rattle on the table and he’s rubbing tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand.

It’s not that Ignis is no longer interested in Gladio in that way, most assuredly not. He and Gladio have certainly been circling one another more closely since leaving Insomnia, but with everything that has happened… dating is the last thing on his mind.

Gladio’s laughter gradually softens. “Shoulda thought something was off when you brought your collection.” He waves a hand over the pile.

“I just—I thought—” Ignis exhales sharply, frustrated with himself for being unable to read between the lines. Stick him in any cabinet meeting, any diplomatic negotiation and Ignis would easily get himself up to speed, a keen ear and eye able to pick up on even the most subtle nuances. But throw Ignis into the realm of pining and romantic inclinations? “I didn’t realize—”

“Alright, well, I’ll remember that for next time—be direct. Not that there will be one.” Gladio shrugs. His voice doesn’t carry any bitterness; he just sounds resigned. His shoulders sag slightly. A man dejected if Ignis has ever seen one.

This is hardly the time to be entertaining a crush or worrying about his dating life, but after getting caught up in this whirlwind of misunderstandings, Ignis isn’t about to let everything go to waste.

“I never said anything about not wanting a second date.” He reaches the frosty glass between them. “Or a redo of the first date? Does this even count at this point?”

Gladio perks, his cheeks taking on a hint of color. “It doesn’t have to, but I mean—”

“It’s a charming story to tell everyone how we got together someday?” Ignis doesn’t bat an eye at the brazen suggestion that they’re soon to be an item, though Gladio swallows hard. He can feel Gladio’s eyes on him as he slides the glass closer, leans in, and takes a sip from his straw. The milkshake is sweet, still cold on his tongue; a welcome sensation now that a creeping heat is threatening to overtake his neck and face. Ignis fears he’s gone too far, but after seeing Gladio’s grin as he leans back, he knows the attempt at humor is appreciated.

“I’ve never been one for kissing and telling,” Gladio muses, leaning back against the vinyl, spreading his arms over the top of the seat back. “Sometimes it’s best to leave some mystery there, leave something to the imagination and all. Hope that’s not a deal breaker.”

Ignis laughs softly at that; he can’t blame Gladio for wanting to protect his lothario image. “Everything’s negotiable, but…” He leans in almost conspiratorially, bringing a gloved hand onto the table. “Maybe we should just start over from the beginning.”

“Mmhmm?” Gladio leans in, vinyl creaking softly beneath him.

“Gladio. Will you go on a date with me?”

He gives a low rumble of a laugh and places a heavy hand on top of Ignis’. “Yeah.” He squeezes Ignis’ hand and a beat later adds: “so this one doesn’t count, then?”

“No, just suring things up for next time. I’ll make sure not to eat dinner first.”

The maps are subsequently pushed to the side and the two linger in each other’s company well beyond the lifespan of the milkshake. On the road there’s no telling when this second date will take place, so they talk late into the night, until the smell of hamburgers on the fry cook’s griddle is replaced with bacon and sausage. Ignis knows they’ll both pay for their complete disregard for sleep and wasting the rare treat of a real bed, but can’t bring himself to really care. Until things are righted in the world and their private time doesn’t come at a premium, Ignis will take every second alone with Gladio that he can get.


End file.
